


Desk Job

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_kinkmeme, F/M, Porn Battle, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Teyla strive to give a new meaning to the term 'desk job'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk Job

When Teyla returns from the meeting with the African delegation, her secretary hands her what she presumes is the most recent copy of the trade agreement between the IOA and the Pegasus planet of Usrenya and tells her, “You’ve got assorted messages - including two calls from Vala Mal Doran, and one from a Kevin Tomlinson of Hauser. I said you were busy and might not be able to get back to you for a few days.”

“A good answer,” Teyla says with a smile. “Very diplomatic.”

“I figured that you’d want to stall him a little longer,” Gina murmurs, sorting through the slips of paper in Teyla’s inbox. “Oh, and Colonel Sheppard arrived nearly forty minutes ago. I put him in your office and blocked out your schedule for the next two hours.”

John is here, already? She did not expect him until at least next week, but Teyla is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Thank you, Gina. Please hold my calls.”

Inside her office, John is sitting in her chair, clad in his dress blues uniform, his feet casually up on the desk, his tongue poised at the corner of his mouth as he plays on his PDA.

He glances up as she enters, and his eyes sweep over the winter suit and boots she donned for today’s round of meetings and appointments, but doesn’t move to vacate her chair, returning instead to his game. “Just give me a few...”

“I see you have made yourself comfortable,” she says, smiling as she sets her briefcase down on the desk.

“It’s a comfy seat. Ah! Got him!” His mouth twitches in a moment of satisfaction, then he taps on the PDA and neatly slips it into his jacket pocket as he rises from the chair. Two steps later, and his mouth is in Teyla’s, kissing her back with all the ardent welcome she could desire. And Teyla is pleased to receive his welcome as his hand wraps around the back of her head lest she think to break away before he is finished with her.

It has been some months since they last saw each other - since she bid him and Lorne and Woolsey farewell and walked through the Stargate to Earth, to be greeted by General Landry of the SGC.

The night before that departure, they made love in her bed, slow and sensuous in soft linen and damp skin. Teyla left her marks on his body, and John left his memories in her flesh, and when the sun rose that morning, it gilded her breasts beneath his grasping hands as she rode him with sweet, trembling thrusts.

Since that night, Teyla has wondered if perhaps the months between might dampen the desire within him or heighten it, as it has hers.

Judging by the ardency of his greeting, his yearning has matched her own.

The idea comes just as he lifts his head from hers, his head still cradling her nape, his lips curving in welcome. “Hey.”

“I shall take that as confirmation that you missed me.”

“Yeah, well...” He looks a little embarrassed. “You can take it as a hello, too.”

Teyla eases him back, angling him so her hips trap him against the desk, then slides her tongue along his jaw and down his throat. His fingers twitch in her hair and his hands slide down her body to cup her bottom.

“How long do you have for lunch?”

“More than enough time to have you as I desire,” Teyla murmurs as she nips his ear and listens to his breath hitch.

“Do I get advance notice of how I’m going to be had?”

She smiles at the catch in his voice as her fingers cup him intimately.  “Ridden on the desk, I believe, until I say you may come.”

John exhales and a flush stains his cheeks as he glances around at the pristine office she has been given for her work while on Earth. “Okay. Naked or clothed?”

“You may choose.”

He glances over her outfit, and then down at the desk. “Um. I don’t mind.”

Teyla has learned new things of John since they have become lovers, has come to understand the complications of his society and upbringing. He is frequently ashamed of what he wants sexually, and often reluctant to ask for what he desires. In spite of the fact that Teyla has never refused him, never allowed him to believe that she finds his choices unacceptable, John often holds back in expressing desire.

“Naked, then,” Teyla tells him and knows kisses him once, soft and deep before stepping back and folding her arms across her chest. “Strip.”

Excitement fizzes delicately in her belly as John toes off his shoes and starts with his collar. Given that he makes no demur, nor protests her demand, Teyla supposes that she judged his mood aright.

And the thought of him underneath her, willing to her will, is more than a little arousing.

He places his jacket across the back of her chair, folds the white shirt in crisp lines on top, and then pauses, looking at her where she stands with her hip resting against the side of the desk.

The heat in his eyes makes her legs tremble.

His kiss sizzles her senses and cool air brushes her breasts as he pops buttons with clever ease, leaving her shirt front to gape open. He kisses his way down her throat, over her breasts, sucking tenderly on the sensitive tips, and Teyla’s fingers curl in his hair, flexing as her flesh tingles and her body aches.

John looks up and his mouth curves faintly. “Missed me?”

“Keep. Going.”

“Oh, I’m not about to stop.”

And when his hands slide her skirt up, and he kneels between her legs, Teyla parts her thighs to give him better access.

The first lick is through fine lace, his tongue thrusting textured fabric against sensitive folds of flesh. Teyla arches, stifling a moan in her throat as he chuckles and his tongue slides that rough edge against her again. Lightning flickers through her body, sharp spears of desire pricking her, searing her, burning her up.

When it stops, she nearly cries out in frustration, but John is merely drawing down her panties. The lines of his nose and mouth show sharp against the rich padding of the carpet as he slides a finger into her cleft. “I’ve dreamed of this,” is all he says before he parts her with his thumbs and closes his lips about her tip.

Teyla hisses and forces herself to breathe as John drives her pleasure as skillfully as he pilots a plane - with all the intensity and all the passion of which he is capable. What he murmurs against her flesh she cannot hear, but there is no mistaking his intent.

Blind fire and tingling pleasure herald orgasm, and there is soft silk beneath her fingers as she clutches at his hair, as his stubble sensitises her thighs, as she fumbles for the desk and anything that might hold her up when all she wants to do is slide to the floor, limp as one of the drained dead.

Remnant shivers tingle along her senses as John kisses his way back up her body, his tongue curling around each breast before he nuzzles her throat.

“There’s more where that came from.”

“Good,” she murmurs, and rests one hand against his breastbone to feel the pounding of his own heart, driven by desire and pleasure and need. “Because I still have several uses for you.”

Instinct moves her to take him in her hand, the swell of his trousers showing plain his own desire. She turns them around so he is the one pressed against the edge of the desk, prone to her will.

Revenge is sweet - or salty as the taste of hot flesh on her tongue.

John trembles as she teases him, and her own body quivers with the pleasure of making him shake. Teyla works the domed head of his erection between her lips, then slides her tongue lightly down the underside and sucks hard on his balls. The power in this is as intoxicating as raw alcohol, and she knows why John has dreamed of his mouth on her flesh - sensuous submission to the exquisite desire of one’s lover. His breath is laboured as she licks up the seed that dribbles eagerly from his tip and lifts her mouth from his pleasured flesh.

“Sit back on the desk, John.”

“Aren’t you gonna say ‘please’?”

Teyla merely arches her eyebrow. John scrambles back onto the desk. “You have me trained really well, you know.”

“I do,” she agrees as she climbs up onto the desk, straddling his thighs. “And you take to training so well, John.”

“Maybe I’m a fast learner.”

“Certainly a dedicated student.”

“With a good teacher.” John’s voice cracks as she slides onto him, but his eyes never waver from her face - glass-green in the daylight. “God, Teyla...”

He grips her hips, pulling her down onto him, kissing her hard and soft and dragging a sharp ache from her body as he shifts beneath her. Teyla drinks from his mouth, moving on him with just enough friction to tease them both, not enough to gain the fullness of satisfaction.

“You know,” John says when they come up for air, “I’ve always had a hotspot for women in suits doing me on office desks.”

“Truly?” Teyla’s mouth curves in a smile and she rises up and sinks down on him. It is wicked, perhaps, but she is curious - and that has always been her failing. “So...did you ever imagine this with Elizabeth?”

His eyes widen as she sinks and he gasps.  “Not...a fair...question...”

“I shall take that as a yes. Sam?”

“God... You are...evil...”

Teyla laughs and sinks down on him again, with a rush of pleasure that is not purely physical. This, as much as anything, is why she loves fucking him - unwinding his tensions, unravelling his prohibitions. And when he is prone like this, she is the one on whom his pleasure rests. “And you enjoy it, do you not, John?”

And in revenge, she increases his speed, listening to his breath catch, listening to him stifle his pants as she sheathes and unsheathes him in swollen, pleasured flesh. Within her groin, a pressure builds, an excitement she heightens by stroking herself through the open edges of her shirt - throat, breasts, belly, clit.

John’s eyes are afire as he watches her pleasure herself and him, his hands planted on the desk, unmoving. He cannot gain any leverage from where he sits, splayed on her desk, but can only trust that Teyla will take him through to the end.

She does.

Slow thrust by slow stroke, building her own pleasure as much as his, Teyla shudders as she bestrides John over and over, until he is begging her, unheeding of what her secretaries outside might hear, unable to do more than yearn for satisfaction.

Pleasure fragments her senses, and Teyla is vaguely aware of hands on her hips, holding her in place as John jerks, muttering something she cannot make out through the haze of orgasm.

His teeth close on the join between shoulder and throat as he comes, and Teyla arches, pushed beyond pleasure into incandescent sensation.

The world goes dim.

They fall silent and still, but for the intertwined sound of their panting through the office.

John’s hand slicks down her spine. “You okay?”

“I am not breakable,” Teyla murmurs. “Although I may have some trouble facing my staff when we come out.”

He chuckles and kisses her throat with tender delicacy. “You’ll survive.”

“I am sure I will.” Teyla props herself off him and regards their sprawled bodies across her desk. “Althoguh I do not believe I will ever think of a desk job the same way again.”


End file.
